Intelligent Design
by ExiledfromAzerath
Summary: Relationships in the cul-de-sac are tested as one of their own spirals out of control and all they have to blame are themselves. Did no one really notice the signs sooner? KevEdd TW for substance abuse, depression and suicide attempts. Experiemental.
1. May 28th, 2017

"Jesus fucking Christ! Ed, get up here!"

"What happened?"

"Is he breathing? Someone check if he's breathing?"

"What did he take? What the hell is that?"

"Kevin, I thought you said everything was okay!"

"Does this look fucking "okay" to you?"

"Kevin, call 911."

"Should we do CPR?"

"Make him puke, Eddy!"

"That shit just makes everything worse... Kevin get your head out of your ass and call 911!"

"Where did he even get something like that?"

"Marie Kanker probably or Fucking Johnny 2x4. Kid's always fucked up on something."

"God dammit man you said he was getting better!"

"Hey Eddy, look at this."

"Fuck...C'mon Sockhead, don't do this to us now."

"Wake up Double D!"

"Fuck, that's a lot of blood…"

"Kevin, what are you doing just standing there?"

"Double D? Can you hear us?"

"Kevin I'm getting really sick of your shit."

"Wake up Sockhead!"

"Why the hell did you drop the fucking phone?!"

"Edd."


	2. May 29th, 2017

The fluorescent lights were blinding; so bright I could see the dust rising from my green jacket. The speckles of red littering the cuffs sparkled under the bright light.

Eddy was screaming again. He was always screaming about something. The police officer he was speaking to stood firm in her place as Eddy ranted on and on. The front of his jersey was covered in blood, drying down to a brown crust that was starting to flake down onto his blue Nike sneakers.

He was gesturing towards me with waving arms and the emergency room entrance doors that we were forbidden from crossing when we arrived. "Immediate family only" the nurses had told us; They did not seem to understand that we were Double D's only family.

The hard metal chairs of the waiting room were almost as unwelcoming as the lights. I would give almost anything to be in Eddy's recliner back at his place, with Eddy switching records and Double D curled up on Eddy's bed with a book. That is what we normally did on Thursday nights.

Kevin sat in the metal chair across from me, head in his hands, bowed down so his forehead was almost touching his keeps. His hands were stained along with the white cuffs of his football jacket. The color had drained from his face hours ago. His ankle brace sat in a tangled mess in the chair next to him. I guess sports injuries hurt a lot less when your heart is screaming. He glanced up for a brief moment, making eye contact with me before bowing his head once again. I wanted to tell him that this wasn't his fault, that it couldn't have been any of our faults, but I was struggling to believe that as much as I wanted to.

Not like anyone listens to what I have to say, regardless.

"Ed, can you go ask Eddy if he got any updates yet?" Sarah, my poor sister whispered from Nazz's arms. Eyeliner smudging down the corners of her eyes and red wavy hair stuck to the sides of her face, magnetized with sweat and tears. Nazz tightened her hug around my sister as Sarah sunk herself deeper in Double D's swim team jacket. I should be angry knowing how much pain he was putting my sister through right now; but I was more concerned about how much pain he was putting himself through. I was once so thankful that Sarah and Double D had decided to date; I remember thinking that he was a good guy and at least he would treat her well. At least Nazz was being a good friend to her; they typically did not get along well. I would have to make that up to her sometime.

I lifted myself from the chair, letting it squeak as my weight was lifted from it. I was a tall guy, well over 6 feet tall but I guess I was heavier than I had thought. Those years of football and puberty had bulked me up a bit, but Eddy still called me a beanpole from time to time when he wasn't calling me a giant.

When i approached Eddy, his face was still glowing red from anger. His crinkled forehead dewed with sweat. Five foot five inches and he was still one of the shortest guy in the cul-de-sac, an insecurity that he tries to hide but Double D says he projects it more often than he distracts from it. When Eddy turned to look at me, his contorted face relaxed into exhaustion. Double D called Eddy a very emotional guy, but said he has a hard time understanding his emotions. I wondered if he understood why he felt so worked up about all of this. I'm sure Double D would be able to decrypt it for him.

"Hey Lumpy. Don't worry, I'm going to get us back there if it kills me." I couldn't help but cringe at the choice of words.

"You don't think Double D is going to die, right Eddy?" I asked. His eyes widened before he crossed his arms and looked away.

"No way, Monobrow. Sockhead is way too stubborn for that. He'll pull through, and then I'll kill him for freaking us out like that." He paused for a brief moment before glancing back up at me again.

I didn't respond for a long time. I never would have thought our lives would have ended up like this. I never thought that out of all of us, Double D would be the one on a downward spiral.

When I didn't answer, Eddy continued, pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing.

"I mean...Jesus Christ…" He said sighing heavily. "I don't know how the hell this could have happened."

I did. I knew exactly how this had happened.


	3. October 13th, 2016

Nothing really changes much in Peach Creek. It has been the same old small town with the same old small town routine and values. Eddy likes to say it's too predictable; Double D calls it suffocating. For our parents and grandparents living miles away from the big city meant that their harmful influences could not touch us. But when there are more cows than people in a town like this teenagers tend to get bored, and god forbid anyone slipped outside of the norm.

When Sarah revisited her juvenile crush on Double D I thought Eddy was going to explode. He and Sarah never got along much. No matter how anyone else phrased it, Sarah was a "17 year old firecracker" and Eddy insisted she was not meant to be trusted. I know she is my sister but oddly enough I agreed with Eddy to a degree.

Double D never challenged Eddy about it much. He would merely shrug or not respond. We could not tell if he cared too much or not enough. At least she was dating someone I trusted. Their relationship was polite and quiet; I knew I could trust Double D to keep my sister safe, although she often complained that Double D was 'boring" and 'lacked passion". I would rather her be with someone boring than someone who would ruin her life.

Post high school life had calmed most of us down. While Double D was working on a Master's Degree at a local university, Eddy and I had gone into the workforce head on. We both worked at a local mechanic shop across town. Ironically two streets over from the candy store we used to stalk as kids. I loved working with my hands and Eddy...well Eddy liked the commission. He has said more than once that he was saving for a one way ticket out of Peach Creek for good, but he's been saying that for years. Double D thinks a clean and fresh start could be good for all of us. I don't think I'm ready to leave just yet.

Double D is much quieter nowadays, either disconnected from the rest of us or spacing out into oblivion. If he didn't appear to be on another planet far away from us, he would seem nervous and on edge, We knew living alone was going to be lonely for him, but I wondered if it was harder for him than he let on. I wonder why he did not go overseas to France with his parents.

It wasn't until October of last fall that I saw a glimpse of what my friend was going through.

A loud thump and crash jolted me from my sleep. As if it wasn't hard enough for me to sleep most nights; the struggle of a night owl according to my mom. I flicked on my table lamp to see a fumbling shadow laying next to my work table, the basement window flapping still from being opened. My model space ship was cracked in half on the floor, it's white paint casting yellow in the dim light.

I slowly lifted the covers off of me before inching towards the end of the bed. If someone was looking to rob me, they were going to be sorely disappointed. I wasn't still living at home at 22 years old for shits and giggles.

The shadow fumbled again, stumbling to their feet before staggering into the light.

Eddward Vincent, one of my best friends and ironically, one of the smartest people I knew was glowing in the yellow light. Black locks jutting out from under his black beanie and barefoot, he was slurring his words as he approached me. His oversized orange T shirt appeared out of place, reading PEACH CREEK COBBLERS REGIONAL CHAMPIONSHIP. Double D did not play football; he was on the swim team when we were in high school. Why would he have a football shirt?

He lost his footing, falling towards me with his arms spread. Scratches and cuts were wallpapering his forearms. Some were puckered and angry while others were faded to a light pink. He gripped his small hands onto my shoulders. His breath reeked like my father's often did on weekends and his pupils were far too big.

"Oh Ed!" He cooed. "Sweet, loveable Ed. How do we live in this world? How can we live knowing what we do? Knowing what we don't?"

All I could do is stare at him. He wasn't making any sense. Was he high? Drunk? Both? How did he even get to my room like this?

Double D continued rambling, unable to focus his tearing eyes.

"It's not fair, Ed. To yearn and crave so desperately only to know you can never really have it. You have to secretly get your fix, like an addict in the shadows, begging for more!" He draped his arms past my shoulders, holding me in a weak and sloppy embrace.

"This is how I'm going to go down, Ed. A victim of my own sinful passions and this suffocating world. If everything is meaningless than why should I bother myself with the consequences or my actions?"

"Double D, what the hell are you talking about? Did you take something? You smell like my dad's liquor cabinet."

He continued to ramble, either not listening to me or not understanding. When Double D got dramatic, I often struggled to follow what he was saying. Eddy would call him a windbag when he gets worked up like this. But his worlds slurring from the poetic intellectual dialogue that I was used to hearing to the gibberish musings of a drunk. They didn't fit together, like two different personalities challenging each other for space.

You'd think someone who has been going to college for the last five years would have learned to hold his liquor better. Eddy would be laughing at Double D right now.

I considered for a moment whether or not Eddy would be a good person to call;Eddy was always the man with the plan, right?

Double D collapsed to my feet, his stream of unintelligible words unhindered by his fall. Eddy would kill me for waking him up at this time of night, no matter what it was for.

I lifted Double D up by the underarms and dragged him to my ratty old recliner. When he wakes up, he might have a germaphobe bitch fit, but I planned to tell him it was payback for waking me up so late.

I throw an old blanket on him and go back to sleep. When I woke up at 7AM, he was gone, leaving nothing but blood spots and a broken space ship cracked on the floor.


End file.
